Bending my head back, I begin to think,
and realize my stomach hurts
because of emptiness. Do I drink water,
there is no food in the fridge.
My head reels over the heat of water,
in the shower, the only place to think,
though standing so long, your feet hurt
as if you had them stuck in the fridge.
Rummaging through the fridge
down onto my feet drips water
edging its way down and lingering as if hurt
and wanting to think
of things littler than itself. I must ignore the hurt
when dropped, it thinks,
and, like all water,
plumets from the edge of the fridge.
God, I hate this fridge.
The food's always missing, evaporates like water.
The dryness of this hurt
is killing me, I think.
In a bad shower, hard water
presses down on your body like hurt.
It's like an empty fridge.
The shower is the best place to think.
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